


Everything Changes

by Emma



Series: The Queen's Magicians [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-17
Updated: 2010-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma/pseuds/Emma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Constable Gwen Cooper is drawn into the dark world of the Queen's Magicians.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Constable Gwen Cooper hated night duty, especially in nights like this one, when the hard rain found all kinds of ways to defeat the police-issue waterproof and its ineffectual little hat. She had given up on dry an hour before and was down to hoping her shoes were salvageable. As she shivered she sent up a prayer to the Great Mother that she wouldn't disgrace herself by sneezing; she knew of one Pagan inspector in Holyhead who had been dismissed for contaminating the scene because he had coughed at the wrong time.

 

It wasn't a secret that many senior officers were unhappy with the Royal Council's decision to promote the advancement of non-Christians in all branches of service. It was rumoured that the Glamorgan District Commissioner, a conservative Roman Catholic, had been threatened with disgrace over his reluctance to obey orders, and even now his protégés in the Subdistrict offices liked to prove their loyalty by finding excuses to dismiss Pagans.

 

She tried to ignore the itching in her nose by concentrating on the crime scene. According to Kyle, the forensics team's recording clerk, the man lying on his back in the mud, eyes open and vacant, had been stabbed in the back with a long, thin blade with a serrated edge. The body had been discovered by the night concierge of the Hilton Cardiff Bay, who had snuck out to meet his girl and had been decent enough to call the police before bolting back to his desk. A search of the immediate area had yielded nothing of interest. The Detective-Inspector in charge had taken one look and stalked back to his car, swearing under his breath. Now they were all standing around, waiting for the Mother knows what and getting soaked to the bone.

 

"Not much longer, Gwen." Senior Constable Andy Davidson offered her a cup of coffee. "They'll be here soon."

 

She smiled at him thankfully. Andy Davidson was the youngest Senior Constable in the Glamorgan Police. He was also the local lay chaplain, and a walking example of the kind of Christian her mam called the real goods. Or course, he was a Celt, not a Roman Catholic, which in Gwen's mind made all the difference.

 

"What are we waiting for, Andy?"

 

"Torchwood."

 

Gwen managed to control her shudder. Everyone knew about Torchwood, but very few people ever encountered them in the flesh. The Queen's Magicians, her mam called them, etching in the air the sign against the Evil Eye. It had been created by Queen Victoria after she was nearly attacked by a werewolf. Its mandate was to protect the Empire from all supernatural threats, but many believed they also had a secret purpose directly connected to the Royal Bloodline.

 

Gwen had never understood why Cardiff rated a Torchwood office. Like most old cities, Cardiff was haunted – she had good reason to know – but there had never been any major demonic outbreaks like the Canary Wharf incident in London. It seemed a lot like swatting a fly with a bomb.

 

"Here they are," Andy muttered.

 

The big, powerful SUV stopped right at the police tape and four people got out. Gwen's eyes were drawn to the tall, dark-haired man in the flamboyant World War Two coat. He moved like someone accustomed to power. There was a touch of the incubus about him in the way he attracted people's eyes, but she noticed that men as well as women turned to look. Then he looked straight at her, and, for a moment, the blue, blue eyes held her like an insect trapped in amber.

 

She told herself it was simply that he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

 

Moving in a phalanx behind him were a tiny oriental woman in the sort of clothes Gwen would have given her eyeteeth for, a small man that reminded her of the fox spirits in her mam-gu's fairy tales, and a woman with the drawn face and blazing eyes of a fanatic. They all dressed in plain, unrelieved black. Something about the group made her uneasy, and she drew back into the shadows beyond the ring of spotlights trained on the body.

 

"Constable Davidson." The man's voice, perfectly modulated, matched his appearance. "Please have your people leave the crime scene. Torchwood is taking over."

 

"Yes, Captain Harkness."

 

Gwen wondered if anyone else could hear the affection in the exchange. She did notice that the Captain's hand rested briefly on Andy's wrist before he moved to follow his crew. It made her even more curious than she already was.

 

She started back with the others, but dropped behind as they passed the parking garage behind the hotel. The second stairwell door she tried was open and she slid inside, closing it carefully so as not to make a sound. She ran up the stairs to the third floor – high enough not to be detected, but low enough that she could see what was going on. The whole place was deserted and dark. Even someone looking up would find it difficult to see her. She ran to the wall directly above the crime scene and looked down.

 

Captain Harkness stood by, patiently waiting until his people finished their work. The Asian woman was moving around in a slow circle while doing something in her PDA. She was obviously the team technologist. The fox man was examining the body using some kind of scanner she had never seen. But it was the second woman that caught Gwen's attention.

 

She was kneeling by the corpse's head. From this angle Gwen had a clear view of the brooch pinned to the lapel of her coat: an eye, its pupil made from jet, its iris from palest amethyst, and its sclera from translucent quartz, mounted on three gold rods forming a triangle. Gwen touched her own, hanging from a long chain and hidden between her breasts. The woman was a Bishop-certified medium.

 

Gwen watched as the woman reached into a bag and took out a leather glove with a wide embroidered cuff. She pulled it on and flexed her fingers.

 

"Come on, come on," the fox man said. "Let's get this done. I'm freezing my arse out here."

 

"It's not that simple. Owen," the woman snapped. "It has to grant me access. I can't make it do anything… oh, oh, oh, oh!"

 

Gwen watched in horror as the woman's hand moved as if pulled by invisible strings. It waved about for a bit, clearly looking for something.

 

"Suzie, concentrate!" Captain Harkness said, kneeling on the other side of the body. "Owen, measure everything. Tosh, record this. We'll need to look at it later."

 

The medium – Suzie – placed her left hand on her pin and closed her eyes. Gwen could see the strain on her face as she fought to bring her gloved hand underneath the corpse's head, cradling it in her palm. Nothing happened for a few seconds, then the dead man blinked and its mouth opened in a wail of panic.

"What's wrong, what's happened?"

 

Captain Harkness took the man's hand in his. "Listen. Listen to me. What's your name?"

 

"John… John Tucker."

 

"Listen, John, you've had an accident. Did you see anything?"

 

"An accident? Why am I not in a hospital, then? " He looked around. "Oh, God, I'm dead, aren't I? And you're making me into a zombie. Oh God, please forgive my trespasses…"

 

"John! John! Listen. We're not making you into anything, ok? We need to know what happened."

 

"I'm not dead. I don't want to be dead. Oh, God, I was just going home."

 

"Fifty seconds," Suzie said.

 

"John! We need to know what happened. Did you see who stabbed you?"

 

"No… There was something… behind me. I couldn't see anything."

 

"Forty seconds."

 

"What happens now?" The man gripped Captain Harkness's hand. "What happens to me now?"

 

"Twenty seconds."

 

"Now you go home, John Tucker."

 

Captain Harkness waited until the man's eyes closed before releasing his hand. Sighing, he stood up.

 

"Well, that went well," Owen said acidly. "Next time we can maybe do it properly."

 

"I don't think there's any proper way to do this, Owen." Captain Harkness tilted his head and looked straight up into Gwen's eyes. "What do you think?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Cooper!"

 

Gwen set down the tray of empty tea mugs she was carrying. "Yes, sir!"

 

"Some old… lady got her purse grabbed outside her local Tesco. Got roughed up a bit and she's kicking up a fuss. Insists on filing a report." The Sergeant's eyes glittered with malice. "She's at Cardiff Royal. Go over and take it down, there's a good girl."

 

She was damned if she gave him the pleasure of seeing her upset. Smiling her highest-wattage smile, she saluted him. "Yes, sir!"

 

As she passed Andy's desk she caught his eye. His approving nod made her smile. Suddenly she remembered something Andy had told her a few months before: _Eric Kenyon's gone as high as he ever will and all the boot licking in the world won't change that, and what's worse, he knows it_. Andy had a gift for putting things, and people, in perspective.

 

The drive to the Cardiff Royal Infirmary was an easy one in the light mid-morning traffic. She used the time to prepare herself. Kenyon knew she was a medium; sending her to a place full of the dead and dying was an act of petty cruelty, but at the same time it revealed his appalling ignorance of basic psychical science. The first and most important test of the Spiritual Certification Court was to measure the ability of a Sensitive's mind to withstand a supernatural assault. For a medium to receive her Bishop's Certificate she had to be able to filter out the voices of the dead in a graveyard or a battlefield at full moon. A modern hospital was a piece of cake in comparison.

 

Taking the statement was a bit time consuming. Mrs. Alder was a garrulous soul. On the other hand she was sharp as a new pin and gave an excellent description of her attackers. Gwen didn't have the heart to tell her nobody was going to go out of their way to find them.

 

As she left the A&E she caught sight of a familiar coat. Captain Harkness was standing half-way up the stairs leading to the first floor, talking to a doctor that seemed just about ready to burst into tears. She couldn't hear what they were saying but it was obvious from the fast, high-pitched whine of what would naturally have been a gravelly baritone that the doctor had had a bad shock. He gesticulated wildly upwards as he spoke. Captain Harkness finally resorted to grabbing his hands and holding them still. The action seemed to calm the man a little. The Captain waited for a few seconds more then started to speak, slowly and evenly. The doctor hiccupped to a standstill then nodded once or twice as Captain Harkness spoke.

 

At some moment Gwen realized that she was aware of another presence. A man stood behind and slightly to one side of the Captain. She couldn't understand how she had missed him, because he had the kind of looks that would attract the eye of any woman, nine to ninety. He was very young, and had the elegant, fey looks of one of the Fair Folk; standing next to Captain Harkness he played a counterpoint of light to dark. He was a human as she was, and living, not dead, yet it seemed to her that he had appeared out of nowhere. He whispered something and the Captain nodded. Tapping his earpiece, the man spoke briefly to someone, then whispered again to the Captain.

 

Captain Harkness released the doctor's hands and he and the young man continued up the stairs. The doctor called out to them, and the Captain turned to answer. Gwen knew the moment he picked her out from the crowd in the lobby. His eyes lit up, and he gave her a slow, sensual smile. Then he spun around and continued up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

 

Impulsively, Gwen started up after him. The Infirmary was designed as a hollow square, with each floor looking down on the central courtyard and its Roman-style pluvium filled with blooming water lilies. Captain Harkness and the young man ran to the third floor and disappeared behind a door with an airlock seal on it.

 

She waited a few minutes and then followed them. The corridor beyond the door smelt of fresh paint. She wondered what the two men were looking for in an empty area obviously undergoing renovation. Walking down the corridor she peered into a few rooms but they were empty except for equipment and boxes piled up haphazardly in the middle of the floor. They had disappeared on her. She was about to give up when she noticed a man in a boiler suit, likely a worker, standing at the far end.

 

"Excuse me, sir?"

 

He turned to her and Gwen flinched and bit back a scream. The man was wearing a fright mask like those Christian children wore on their Halloween festival. He seemed as scared by her as she was by him. He ran down a narrow corridor that branched to the right of the main one, moving in a half-crouch like an ape. Gwen ran after him, trying to remember if the Infirmary had a Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit.

As they reached a turn in the corridor, a security guard stepped out from one of the rooms right in front of the fleeing man. "Whoa, mate. What's the hurry? Are you…"

 

Gwen watched in horror as the masked man struck the guard across the throat. Blood gushed out. The guard dropped the keys he was carrying and grabbed at the wound as it to stop the blood, then toppled backwards. His killer then turned back to Gwen, snarling, his whole front spattered red.

 

"Look," she started to speak, trying her best to keep her voice from shaking, as she backed away slowly. "You need help. He needs help. Let me call someone, all right?"

 

Suddenly the young man was there, standing directly behind the masked man. He was carrying an active stunner in his hand. At the same time, Gwen was yanked out of the way and found herself tumbling into the folds of a World War Two military coat.

 

"Hello, Gwen Cooper." The satisfied purr in his voice made every nerve in her body strum. "What are you doing here?"

 

She tried to answer but found his finger across her lips.

 

"Don't say anything. This is the second time you've spied on me, Gwen Cooper. Now let's see if your detective skills are as good as your stalking ones. Find me, Gwen. Find Torchwood."

 

She heard an amused snort behind her, and turned to see the young man smiling wryly. The man in the mask lay on the ground, breathing heavily, hands cuffed behind his back.

 

"But remember one thing, Gwen Cooper. If you find us, you're ours."


	3. Chapter 3

Rhys dropped his fork. "Torchwood?!"

 

"I know, I know!" Gwen pushed a shrimp around on her plate as she tried to make sense of the day's events. "Mam would have ten kinds of fit if she knew. But Rhys, it's… I'm tired of making tea and taking statements from mugging victims. It's been four years, and I've watched people who started on the job after me get preferential treatment because they genuflect to the right altar." She shrugged. "I thought I could make a difference, Rhys, but… maybe I can't."

 

"Ummm. Are you going to finish that?" When she shook her head, he got up and started clearing the table. "I stopped at François and picked up a few of those little apple tarts you like some much. Be right back."

 

Gwen watched him as he sorted things out in the kitchen. Sometimes she wondered how she had gotten so lucky. She had met Rhys on their first day at Uni, when he had stopped to ask her for directions. When she told him she was new to Cardiff, he had grinned merrily at her and said _then let's go be lost together_. They had been together ever since. He was kind, and funny, and she could talk to him about anything under the sun. Her family loved the idea that she had found herself a nice boy from her own background. And he was one hell of a ride in bed.

 

It scared her how much she could take him for granted sometimes.

 

He waltzed back to the table carrying a tray with the pastries and a towel folded over his arm like a French waiter. "Mamzelle," he said, in an atrocious accent, "here we have ze greatest dezzert ever concocted by our kitchen."

 

She giggled and pulled him down by the shirt-front until she could snog him silly. "Merci, Monsieur."

 

Rhys put one of the tarts in front of her and bit into his own with gusto. Gwen toyed with hers as she had with dinner. "Gwennie, is anything wrong?"

 

"Yeah. My head! I should be able to make a decision, but I can't. What would you do, Rhys?"

 

He looked levelly at her. "I would run in the other direction as fast as I could. But I'm not you. You've always had a hankering for the sharp shiny things." He raised his hand to stem the flow of words from her. "No, just listen. I'm not slagging you off. You use that hankering to help people and that's a great thing. Just remember that Torchwood may not be exactly on our side."

 

"I know. I'll look into it, do a little research. It might help me make a decision."

 

"Good." He stood up and offered her his hand. "Would Mamzelle care for a coffee? A dance? Her marigolds so she can do the dishes?"

 

"Oh, you!" She pushed him towards the door. "Off you go. Don't let Banana Boat get too pissed, ok? Last time we had to have the sofa cleaned."

 

She did the dishes and then settled in front of her laptop. Googling Torchwood returned something like twelve thousand hits. The official Government websites listed it but there was no information other than the usual boilerplate. A lot of the websites were by conspiracy theorists on the far side of crazy, and some were so far past crazy that they rounded about and bit their own tails.

 

After wading through a lot of muck, she found one that seemed interesting. Someone had spent a lot of time collecting information on Torchwood. They had gotten their hands on historical photos and documents going back fifty or sixty years. There wasn't much commentary of the lunatic kind; just names and dates. She scanned through several screens until she found a photograph titled _Torchwood Cardiff, 1924_. It showed a six people standing in front of the Pierhead Building. They had their arms around each other, and they were grinning. One of them was Captain Jack Harkness, looking exactly as he had when she had seen him in the morning, except for the clothes.

 

And that should have been completely impossible. There were some glamours that allowed people to present the appearance of youth, but they were easily detectable by Sensitives, and she hadn't felt anything when he held her. Even more easily detectable would have been some sort of demonic presence; Captain Harkness may have been darker than most, but he was human.

 

Set that aside for now, she told herself. He wanted her to find him. Now, most people assumed Torchwood worked out of some anonymous building in one of the big industrial parks, or perhaps from one of the gigantic Victorian places with their acres of land and their security fences. But in the picture the whole team was outside, coatless and hatless. In the twenties, men and woman customarily wore coats and hats outside, especially if they were going out to lunch or dinner, but the women were not even carrying purses. The informality of the pose gave the impression that they had just stepped out of the office for a smoke.

 

The problem was that most of the older buildings in the area had been destroyed, either during the Blitz or more recently, during the building of the Millennium Centre. Still, they could have remained near by, in one of the new places in East Bute or Pierhead. A bit of reconnoitering was indicated. She printed the photo, logged off the laptop, and set out for the bay.

 

It wasn't yet high season for tourists, so she was able to find a parking space reasonably near to the Plas. The sun had set and it was a cool night. She walked briskly along until she was outside the Pierhead Building, its red brick looking slightly out of place between the great modernities of the Millennium Centre and the National Assembly. She moved in a big circle until she found the façade behind the group and then turned around.

 

She was facing the fountain at the Plas.

 

Well, she thought with disgust, that was a complete cockup. She had walked around for an hour, freezing cold, and had ended up looking at empty air. She wanted a cup of coffee and a sit down so she could think. As she crossed the Plas towards the cafes, she passed two pizza delivery guys.

 

"Look," one was saying to the other, "these Torchwood guys drag you out at all hours but they tip really well…"

 

"Oi!" She chased after them, pulling her police card and shoving it right under their noses. "You're delivering to Torchwood?"

 

"Yeah." The first guy said. "Is there a problem?"

 

"No, no! It's just that I've got a mate who works there and I'm supposed to meet him. I've been wandering around here for fifteen minutes and can't find the place."

 

"I've never been there myself," the delivery guy said. "I usually deliver to the tourist office over there and the guy there pays me."

 

"All right, how about if I pay you and take the pizza? I'd like to take the mickey out of my friend for being such a right berk about the directions."

 

"All right," he said dubiously, "but if they get upset…"

 

She pulled out a twenty and handed it over in exchange for the pizza. "Oh, don't worry about it. I'll tell them it was my idea."

 

The tourist office was a dinky little place lit only by a bare bulb. There was nobody behind the counter. As she looked around, a section of the opposite wall swung open to reveal a corridor. She walked through and the door swung shut behind her. It gave her a rather trapped feeling, so she hurried towards the big round door standing open at the other end.

 

Beyond that door there was a huge space. The center area was arranged as an office, with desks and work tables crowded with computer equipment. People were working, and either had not seen her or chose to ignore her. A flight of stairs led into what had to be an office and another to a slightly higher area where she could see several rooms. Other doors and archways led to spaces lower down. But it was the fountain with its metal column that amazed her the most; it must be the base for the one above in the Plas. She followed it up with her eyes, and got yet another shock as a large… thing… flew out of somewhere high up and circled it, cawing.

 

"What in the name of Brid is that?"

 

"That is a juvenile specimen of draco cambrensis, the common Welsh dragon. Extinct for at least a thousand years." Captain Harkness came down the stairs, coat and jacket off, sleeves rolled up. "Well done, Gwen Cooper. So, do you want a job?"

 

She looked up at the marvelous thing circling the fountain and then down at the ring of grinning faces around her. "Yes. I think I do."


	4. Chapter 4

"Before we start, introductions are in order. From left to right, Suzie Costello, second in command and Bishop-certified medium, Owen Harper, medical doctor and Healer, and Toshiko Sato, technologist and researcher." Captain Harkness pointed at the young man handing out coffee cups. "And this is Ianto Jones. He keeps us supplied with everything we need and gets us everywhere on time. And he looks good in a suit."

 

"Careful, sir, that's harassment."

 

Gwen grinned at the snorts (Suzie and Owen) and giggles (Toshiko) that the exchange produced. It would seem her prospective colleagues took their boss's peculiarities in stride.

 

"So, Gwen Cooper, what do you want to know?"

 

"Why me?"

 

He didn't even bother to pretend. "Because I've been looking for someone with your qualifications for years. You are a pantheist, a perspective Torchwood lacks. You are intelligent and persistent, and people like you and talk to you. And more to the point, Andy Davidson thinks you're the right person for the job."

 

"Andy works for you?"

 

"Would you trust the current police commissioner?" He bit into a biscuit. "Next question."

 

"Why here? Cardiff, I mean. I know it's considered one of the most haunted places in Britain, but…"

 

"Tell me what you know about the Wall between the Worlds, Gwen."

 

"The Wall between the Worlds is the barrier between the living and the dead, the natural and the supernatural. At certain times of year it becomes thinner. It is thinnest at Samhain…"

 

He stopped her with a raised hand. "Now tell me what you know about Torchwood."

 

"Torchwood was created by Queen Victoria after she was nearly bitten by a werewolf under the control of demon worshippers that wanted to gain control of the government through the Royal Family. Your mandate is to protect the Empire against supernatural threats." She looked down at her hands. "My people say you have another mandate, one much more… secret."

 

"Your people are right, but no for the right reason." Captain Harkness leaned back, sipping at his coffee. "The secret we guard is that the Wall between the Worlds is not as solid as people believe. It is constantly warping and cracking, opening and closing. The supernatural is always one step away, Gwen, especially here in Cardiff."

 

"I don't understand."

 

"More than a thousand years ago a man known only as the Doctor discovered that there is a Rift in the Wall. A permanent opening. In most places it's too small to be a threat, but in Cardiff it's an open wound. Our real mandate is to keep the Rift closed as much as we can and to deal with what comes through when we can't."

 

Gwen sat in stunned silence. None of the things she had imagined came close to matching this. "But… but…" she finally sputtered. "People have a right to protect themselves. Why aren't you telling them?"

 

"God, no!" Suzie interjected. "Most people deal with the supernatural by making believe it's very distant from their every day lives. Can you imagine if they knew that it's right next door all the time?"

 

"My people believe that the spirits are all around us," she objected. "It hasn't driven us mad yet."

 

"Because," Suzie said, "your beliefs do not square you off against a Great Enemy. Most Christians equate supernatural with satanic. The idea that things could pop out at them, Church or no Church, would drive them stark staring mad."

 

"But…"

 

"Gwen," Ianto's soft voice cut through her protest. "Right now, a young girl with odd powers will be hauled in front of a Bishop's court for certification. But if people stop trusting the Church, they will take matters into their own hands."

 

Gwen grabbed at her certification pendant as if it were a talisman. "Yes. I see."

 

"Good." Captain Harkness stood up. "You start tomorrow, bright and early. We'll take care of notifying your supervisor. Tosh will save the CCTV tape so you can gloat over Kenyon blowing an artery." He walked her to a spot near the fountain. "Hold on," he said.

 

She nearly shrieked as the flagstone under her feet began to move. Hanging on to Captain Harkness's arm, she rode upwards to emerge at one side of the Plas. As she passed the opening she felt the tingle that signified a glamour field.

 

"I hope you don't leave this thing open too often." She said. "Someone could fall through."

 

"That is so very Welsh," he complained good-naturedly. "I show you something fantastic and you find fault. Off you go, Gwen Cooper. See you tomorrow."

 

She trotted in the direction of the side street where she had parked her car. It was late, and as she left the lights of the Plas and the Millennium Centre she found herself walking in shadows. Twice she thought she heard footsteps behind her, but she attributed it to fears caused by her new knowledge. The third time she could no longer ignore the facts. She waited until she entered the circle of light cast by one of the ornate lampposts and turned around. Suzie Costello stood a few steps away, a large gun in her hand.

 

"I'm sorry, Gwen Cooper." Her voice was oddly gentle. "But I can't let you come to work with us."

 

"Why not?"

 

"You would see. You would know."

 

"Suzie." Captain Harkness emerged from the darkness to stand between them. "Why, Suzie? Why did you kill them?"

 

"I had to," she seemed to be arguing with herself as much as with him. "I had to know how the glove worked. You understand, don't you, Jack? I had to know."

 

He started to move towards her. Without a word, she raised the gun and shot him in the chest. The force of the impact spun him around and he collapsed. Gwen screamed. Suzie turned towards her and raised the gun again. Gwen felt herself being lifted off her feet and she was pushed back into the shadows and into the safety of a recessed doorway. A large hand clamped around her mouth.

 

"Stay still," Ianto Jones hissed in her ear. "The glove is controlling her. She'll feel every movement."

 

"Gwen! Come out! I won't go away, you know."

 

A movement behind Suzie caught Gwen's attention. If it hadn't been for Ianto's hand, she would have screamed. Jack Harkness was standing in the light. His shirt was covered in blood, but he was alive and breathing easily.

 

"Suzie."

 

Suzie did scream as she turned around. "No! No! You're dead. I know you were, I felt it!" She hung on to the gun with both hands. "Oh God, you're one of them, aren't you? They're always around, you know. I try to keep them away, but they're always around." She raised the gun and placed it under her chin. "Maybe I should just join them. It would be so much easier."

 

"Suzie, no!" Gwen could hear the anguish in the Captain's voice. "Please!"

 

A shot rang out and Suzie crumpled to the ground. Gwen stumbled as Ianto released her and walked away. She watched as he knelt by the body. He pulled a small vial from his pocket and, removing the cap, poured a small stream of oil into Suzie's mouth. Dipping his fingers into the vial, he made the sign of the cross on Suzie's forehead and murmured a prayer. Then he rose to join his boss. Gwen could see tears in his eyes.

 

"Thank you, Ianto." Captain Harkness sounded weary. "Well, Gwen? You've seen the beauty and the horror of Torchwood, all in one night. Are you sure you still want to join?"

 

She looked at the two men. "Positive."


End file.
